


The Minuets of Diplomacy

by Reccea



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-15
Updated: 2010-06-15
Packaged: 2017-10-12 16:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reccea/pseuds/Reccea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Fighting for someone's entertainment isn't the same as fighting for your life." McCoy thinks it's a pretty important distinction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Minuets of Diplomacy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/trekreversebang/profile)[**trekreversebang**](http://community.livejournal.com/trekreversebang/) challenge - where the artists inspire the story. As always, I blame [](http://smittywing.livejournal.com/profile)[**smittywing**](http://smittywing.livejournal.com/). Er. I mean, I thank [](http://smittywing.livejournal.com/profile)[**smittywing**](http://smittywing.livejournal.com/) for the awesome beta.

_Jim goes down, knees digging in the gravel, hand grasping at the burn searing his side. "Shit," he gasps, forehead to the ground. Shit, shit. This wasn't how it was supposed to go._

The guy turns out to be a not-half-bad villian because he only announces his presence after he's shot Jim. "Trying to leave, Kirk?"

He needs to get up. He needs to get up now. "Now why would you think that?" Jim's voice comes out thin and reedy, but it doesn't crack.

"Jim!" he hears McCoy's shout and the thunder of more than one pair of Starfleet issue boots come running.

And then he hears the whine of a phaser at the ready.

 **One Day Earlier**  
**

"Spock, man," Jim says to the empty cell. "We have got to work on your definition of uninhabited. Because this planet? Is really, really habited."

From down the hall there's a series of shouts and the keening cry of someone being pulled out of their cell. Jim hears the threats that follow, translates them as best he can into 'shut up or we'll feed you to the lions.' Not that the big flesh eaters are lions exactly, but it's as close as he can get. Any port in a storm and all of that.

The keening cry trickles to a halt in hiccuping sobs.

Jim leans his head against the bars of his cell, takes a deep steadying breath, and focuses. There's a way out. He just has to figure out what it is.

**

"I'm not a fighter," McCoy explains again, very slowly, to the guard standing outside the door. "I'm a doctor. I make sure the idiots that _are_ fighters don't get themselves killed."

There's a few snickers from the back half of the cavernous cell, where the smaller aliens are hiding in the shadows.

"You better hope for the Klingon then," someone calls out, giggling.

McCoy doesn't smile. "Klingon?"

Someone closer to the front, a young girl with webbed hands and tentacled hair, says softly, "She makes it quick. So you don't suffer. You're not a fighter, so hope for a quick death."

**

Uhura steps over the prone body, tries to ignore the chaotic cheering of the crowd. She focuses on the thunder of her own breathing, the trickle of sweat going down her spine, the warmth of the sun on her skin, beating through the thick material of her uniform. She twists the knife in her hand, the grooves starting to feel almost familiar against her fingers. She opens her eyes and stares at the stadium, at the small group on the dias jutting out into the arena, their rich clothes and the jewels from their fingers glittering in the sunlight. She sees the row of hands pointing down, is unable to ignore the chants of 'death' in dozens of languages she knows and several more she doesn't.

Uhura twirls the knife again and slams it down.

Into the ground beside the unconscious Trill.

Uhura looks back up at the crowd, the crazy howling mass.

And says calmly. "No."

**

"He is too rare," the one in charge, Belfthour, says as he makes a slow circle around the cage.

Spock has been able to ascertain in his time there that the majority of the prisoners are kept in cells underneath the surface. From the guards's comments he knows that the prisoners considered threatening are kept in small single cells separate from the rest and that those prisoners considered completely unthreatening are kept in one large auditorium like cell at the center of the facility. Spock, being apparently considered some kind of precious commodity, is kept in a small cage in the throne room belonging the owners of the facility. In order to cultivate a lack of precaution on the part of his captors he has spent the majority of his time since awakening in a state of feigned meditation.

This has allowed him to calculate the amount of time it takes the guards to travel to the main cell, retrieve a prisoner, and return to the throne room - approximately 4.76 standard minutes - as well as overhear enough to develop a rudimentary map of the facility. He is given to understand that Mr. Scott is considered a moderate threat and so is situated in a smaller cell with a few other prisoners, Lt. Uhura and Captain Kirk are considered high-level threats and are being kept in solitary cells, likely at the north end of the facility - the guards who report to the north end of the facility carry with them the faint smell of animal feces and those who report to the owners have this same scent. Dr. McCoy is the only member of the away team considered a non-threat, which Spock is given to understand is due to his general refusal to engage in combat.

"I've read about Vulcans." Belfthour circles Spock's cage. He is trailing his long nails against the bars, making a screeching noise that, while unpleasant for Spock, seems nearly unbearable for the guards who hedge closer to the exit. "Before they found logic they were a formidable fighting race. It's a shame there are so few left. I would have loved to have Vlemmk make an example of this one. But he is too valuable to risk it, I suppose."

The long nails trail across the bare skin of Spock's back and it is clear that the nails of this species are connected, live tissue, because through the unwelcome caress he can read a myriad of thoughts, the particular kind of 'show' he wishes Spock to perform, his eagerness to return to the arena, his curiosity about Spock's crewmates, and an even clear view of the route from this room to the arena and the large cell below.

"If we cannot enjoy him" another says, this one sitting in one of the five large chairs at the center of the room, "we can enjoy his friends. The one in yellow is good for a show, yes?"

The glimpse of Jim that Spock gets just before the nails pull away indicates that Jim is a valued performer. And being pushed beyond his limits. Spock doesn't have much time.

**

The guards make a blistering racket coming down the halls, which Scotty appreciates. It means he always has time to hide the bits of the bomb he's working on before the guards are ever in sight. This time he hides his kit and caboodle in enough time to get back into the light and watch them carry the lovely Trill back to her cell group, looking a little less lovely than before. Scotty smiles at the guards as they make their way back. It never fails to make them veer a little off course, thrown by his cheerfulness maybe. Or else smiling means something else entirely in their culture. Scotty's not actually sure but he enjoys the reaction either way.

"Well, now, how are you feeling?" Scotty calls out the moment they've gone.

"I met the young woman you described," the Trill, Arze, crawls to the front of the her cell and leans against the bars. "You failed to mention her right hook."

"Never had cause to experience it myself," Scott shrugs in apology. "But I can't say I'm surprised."

Arze smiles at that, the movement slow and ginger. Even in the wretched light he can see the bruising coming up around the right side of her face. "She and your captain are being held in the solitary section in the north wing. And she said your doctor was in the Down Below."

Scott waits but when she offers nothing else he prompts, "Is that it then? No word on Mr. Spock?"

Arze shakes her head. "Sorry, no."

"Well." Scott squares his shoulders and goes back to grab his supplies. "He's a resourceful one. Bound to figure something out."

"If your crewmates are even half as resourceful as you seem to be..." Arze trails off.

Scotty settles down in the best patch of light, laying his supplies down in small piles. "We might just get out of this then."

"You still planning on taking us with you?" She tucks a hand through her bars and traces circles into the dirt of the hall between them.

"I said so before and I keep my word," Scotty replies firmly. "Now. I'm going to need a little more of that mineral from the arena floor. Anyone willing?"

One of Scotty's cellmates, a Tellerite, snickers. "Willing to help you blow this place to hell? Might do."

"Just promise," the Bajoran across the hall leans his head against the bars, "that it'll be a big explosion."

"That," Scott says cheerfully, "shouldn't be a problem."

**

 

It takes three guards to get Uhura back in her cell. Her smaller size and her agility makes it almost impossible for even the three of them to hold her while they walk down the long corridor to the narrow dark cells. When they throw her in, she rolls with the impact and gets into a crouch before the door closes. She's getting faster each time and she thinks that, whenever Kirk gives the signal, she'll be able to get up in enough time to make a break for it.

The heavy lock slides home and she stalks to the door, watching the guards shuffle away into the shadows.

"You okay?" Jim asks roughly, his voice echoing down the hall. He sounds like shit, and she knows he looks even worse. He's been going up against things twice his size, strength, and speed and has been coming out alive more from luck than anything else.

"I won," she calls back, which isn't an answer exactly.

"Against anyone we know?" Jim asks every time, as if somehow she'd neglect to mention it.

"A Trill from the middle cells. Scotty's a few cells down from her. She said the accent was familiar."

"Great. That's great."

Only it wasn't really because that meant Scotty and Dr. McCoy were in completely opposite directions and they still didn't know anything about Spock. She slipped her arms through the bars, spreading her fingers wide and letting the wind tickle across her palm. "Yeah. Great."

 

**

"They have weapons," one of the younger men points out disparagingly.

"That they've taught you all to use," McCoy counters, settling in to his argument. "And anyway, how many of them do you think there are? Especially compared to all of us."

"It won't work." The webbed-fingered girl shakes her head, tentacles slipping off her shoulders.

McCoy leans forward. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

She looks at him suspiciously. McCoy tries smiling, close-mouthed but obvious enough. He doesn't often present a decent bedside manner but he sure as hell can when he feels like it. He knows how to put people at ease when it suits him. "I'm Leonard."

"Oleana," she says after a moment.

"Well, now, that wasn't so hard." He smiles more broadly, but careful not to show teeth, knowing some species found the showing of teeth as a sign of agression, and there was more than enough aggression around this place. "How long have you been down here, Oleana?"

"I... I don't know." She bites her lip.

"We all lose track," someone in the back mutters just loud enough to heard. "There are no days here."

"Then I guess that means you've been down here long enough, doesn't it?" McCoy counters. "Now my friends are figuring a way out. And you better believe we've gotten out of tighter spots than this. But if you work with me, if we all work together, then I don't see why we all can't get out."

"I thought you didn't fight."

"Fighting for someone's entertainment isn't the same as fighting for your life." McCoy thinks it's a pretty important distinction.

Oleana reaches out, sliding a moist hand onto his face. "Here it is the same."

**

"So, okay. That's five Trills, seven Bajorans, an Andorian, fifteen unidentified humanoids, and the --"

"Don't forget the Klingon." Uhura picks at the purple soggy vegetable in the center of her stew.

"Are you sure there's really a Klingon?" Jim asks, skepticism audible. "They could be lying. Trying to scare us. Trying to, I don't know, impress us?"

Uhura spoons off a chunk of the vegetable, bites into it and then wishes she hadn't. "I heard the guards comparing kill shots. The Klingon has the most."

Jim hums. "Okay, maybe there's a Klingon."

"And the Gorn was second, I think." She spits the vegetable discreetly into her hand and flicks it away into the main walkway.

"Shit, there's seriously a Gorn?" Jim taps his fingers against his bars. "And that is not how you share your food, Miss Manners."

Uhura looks up from her stew. "I'm sorry, did you actually want the purple root?"

"God no." She can see his shoulder shudder against the cell bars. "It tastes like feet."

"I'm going to pretend that's hyperbole and that you have never actually tasted feet." She pushes the remains of her stew back towards the food slot.

After a long moment Jim turns around, pressing his face against the bars. "How do you figure you defeat a Gorn?"

She hugs her knees to her chest and considers. "Outrun them, I think."

Jim laughs hoarsely. "Outrun them. Awesome."

 

**

"Doctor." The guard tries the word out like it tastes bad, pulling the first 'o' out for as long as he can and then spitting out the rest in a rush.

"I don't fight." McCoy knows it's pointless and won't do any good but he refuses to just go along with the program.

"Then you die." The guard shrugs, obviously unconcerned. He points his phaser at McCoy and uses it to wave him out of the cell.

"Great choices," McCoy mutters, stepping out of the cell.

"Shoud've let him shoot you," the second guard says as they shoulder McCoy down the long hallway. "Your opponent will not be so kind."

The first guard chuckles lowly. "So if you do not fight, how do you think you will survive?"

McCoy doesn't bother answering because frankly he doesn't have anything to say that isn't going to be more trouble then it's worth.

The walk to the arena is damn short, which is probably important so he tries to keep it in mind. But then he's shoved out past the gate and stumbles into the bright sunlight. He raises an arm to shield his eyes. He hadn't really realized just how dark the cells were until he saw actual sunlight. His eyes water and he blinks furiously, trying to get a line on his surroundings.

The arena came into focus: the gray stadium, the colorful crowd waving flags and blowing horns, the dais and the impassive-looking small audience seated on it. And his opponent.

The Klingon woman brandishes her knives and smiles.

 

**  
"All right." Scotty surveys the collection of debris his team had managed to collect from their latest trips to the arena. "Let's see what we've got."

Enough of the combustive mineral and the appropriate wiring (that taken from some of the more advanced weapons) for two - possibly three - bombs. He'll be able to cobble together only one remote though, which isn't as big a problem as it could be.

"Opaka, you've got those picks for me?" he calls across the hall.

Opaka waves his set of small metal sticks.

"And you know how to use them?" Not that Scotty doubts the Bajoran, but it's always best to check.

Luckily eyerolls are the same on most humanoid planets.

"Right then."

"Are you sure the explosive will be strong enough to take out the main door?" Arze asks.

"Should be," Scotty nods.

Opaka tucks his picks away. "And if it isn't?"

"Well it'll clear these bars sure enough and yours too. You get the rest unlocked and--"

"And then the guards come," Arze points out.

"And then, being as how we outnumber the lot, we take them down and use that distraction to get out the door."

Opaka considers this and angles his head so he can look at Arze. "Then a prison riot?"

Arze bites her lip thoughtfully, but her eyes are clearly amused. She nods. "I suppose. If we must."

Scotty claps his hands. "It's a plan then."

 

**

"Either surrender for a quick death or defend yourself," the Klingon spits, thrusting a knife at McCoy's torso.

McCoy dodges out of the way, hitting the ground and managing the roll to the right before another strike comes. "How about a third option." He pushes himself up and scrambles back, holding his hands out in what he hopes is a universal 'hang on a minute' gesture.

She snorts, sounding almost amused. "How like a human, to cower on the battlefield."

"Well now, I wouldn't really call this a battlefield." McCoy rolls his shoulders and tries to figure out a way to disarm her. He comes up with precisely zero options. "Sending out the weakest of the bunch to fight a lady like yourself? Seems a bit suspect."

She swings her knives around, but doesn't come close to catching him. "It is beneath me," she nods.

"Beneath all of us, I think," he agrees. "And there are a lot of us."

She narrows her eyes and kicks out in his general direction. He evades it easily and feels like maybe he's getting somewhere.

"You are from the lowest cell. There are so many of you?"

He catches what she's really asking. "Hundred or more, at least," he answers. "My friends are in the other cells. And they're already coming up with a plan, I guarantee that."

She holds one of the long knives out, scarce inches from his throat. The crowd roars around them. "You offer my freedom for your life?"

"I'd offer you your freedom even if you weren't threatening my life," McCoy says honestly. There's not one person in this place he'd leave behind if he could.

The Klingon kneels and sets her long knives on the ground. She stands straight and beckons for him to come closer. "You will strike and I will allow the hit. "

McCoy doesn't say anything for a moment.

She smiles viciously but it looks almost pretty for all that. "There is no honor in death on this battlefield."

McCoy smiles back. "I couldn't agree more."

**

It is clear that the guards do not have pleasant news to report and are in severe disagreement as to who must be the bearer of such news.

Belfthour waves at them impatiently. "Speak."

One guard takes a step back, leaving the other closer to Belfthour. "My lord Belfthour." He hesitates.

Belfthour makes a fist, long nails sliding across his wrists. "Yes."

The guard takes a sharp breath. "The doctor has defeated his opponent in battle."

There's a moment of confusion where it is clear that Belfthour cannot reconcile his version of events with reality. And then he stands. "You are certain."

The other guard offers. "She allowed him to strike, my lord. Invited it."

One of the other ownerclass interjects, "The doctor beat the Klingon. You must be in jest."

Belfthour snarls and stalks from the room, the guards following close behind.

Spock finds that, though the doctor's win seems illogical without further information, he is not at all surprised.

 

***

The guards don't come alone this time. They come with a velvet-wearing, self-important-looking jackass who rams a meaty fist against Jim's cell. "Your doctor has defeated the Klingon. How is this possible?"

Jim licks his lips. "I think maybe you're confused."

The man snarls. "She laid her weapons down to him and allowed herself to be taken."

Jim tries to hide the beginning of a smile. "He's pretty charming when he tries, I gotta tell you."

From across the hall Uhura hisses, "Kirk."

"You are joking," the man says slowly in a way that makes it pretty clear how much he dislikes a good sense of humor. Jim gets that a lot in the really pompous foreign dignitaries. "Well then. Perhaps you will find this as humorous. If the weakest among you is so powerful, we shall see how you do against a stronger opponent." The man steps back and snaps to the guards. "Take this one to the arena."

 

**

The arena is pretty fucking big. With stadium seating that reminds Jim of the chambers at the Academy. Of course he isn't here to defend cheating, or his taking over the Enterprise, or his sneaking onto the Enterprise, or even to accept a medal. As far as Jim can tell, he's here to get the crap kicked out of him by a Gorn. "Well, crap."

The Gorn is less talkative. He grunts in disgust and does his level best to pick Jim up. Jim ducks but he gets caught in what has to be the most uncomfortable hug in history. He tries to backhand the Gorn but his hand bounces off its rubbery face so then he tries shoving and kicking at the ground until he catches the Gorn in the foot. The Gorn roars and stumbles slowly back.

Jim presses his slim advantage and barrels into the Gorn. They both stumble blindly across the arena for a few precious seconds until the Gorn goes down on his ass and Kirk manages to get flipped over onto his back. Jim hisses but pushes himself up.

And watches the Gorn roll slowly over and regain his feet. Jim considers his options and grabs the nearest rock.

 

**

Scotty affixes the makeshift package to the front of the cell bars and then jogs to the back of the cell, pressing himself against the wall with his cellmates. "All set?" he shouts.

There'ss a chorus of affirmatives from the surrounding cells.

Scotty takes a deep breath. "Here we go." He presses the button.

 

***

 

The ground shudders and the walls groan, dust flaking off them into the air. Belfthour scrambles off his seat, shouting. The guards and others from the ownerclass were also shouting, and screaming, so it's doubtful that anyone but Spock particularly hears Belfthour's furious demand for a status report.

The small group scrambles about until Belfthour jumps into the center of the fray. "Silence!"

There isn't silence but the cacophony does lessen dramatically.

"It must be the prison level." Belfthour brandishes the phaser he'd taken from Kirk three days prior. "You four with me," Belfthour points at four of the six guards and then exits the room. The others in the owner class take the opportunity to abandon the facility, leaving only two guards behind.

Spock waits.

**

Uhura falls back on her ass in a pretty undignified way that she's glad Kirk isn't around to see. She pushes herself up and goes back to the bars of her cell. She can hear shouting and people running past the main door.

She grins. "Good going, Scotty."

**

The crowd above the arena is doing the mass panic thing that major earth movements always cause. It's blinding to watch the swirl of colors and flags all converge at the same five points, which Jim figures must be the only exits. Even the idiots on the little dais are hightailing it back to whereever they came from. Jim pushes himself up off the ground and dusts off his knees. He turns around to see what kind of chaos there is at the gates back to the prison levels.

He doesn't see that Gorn fist coming at all.

**

"What the hell was that?" one of the younger boys asks, his voice trembling on the curse.

"My friends," McCoy answers.

"Your friends are insane!" an older woman shouts, well on her way to hysteria. "Are they trying to bring the arena down on our heads?"

The roof _is_ littering debris down on them, especially at the bars. McCoy narrows his eyes and walks forward. "No, but loosening things up isn't a half bad idea.

**

Scotty rushes across to Opaka's cell, plants the second bomb and then races back again. "Hang on!" he shouted and hit the remote again. The second explosion was just as impressive, if he said so himself.

The dust clears and Opaka is already out, picking the lock for Arze's cell deftly. "You weren't kidding about the explosion," he said.

"Impressive enough for you then?" Scotty can't help the little shine of pride he feels, silly as it is.

"Here come the guards!" Someone near the main door shouts and Opaka gets Azre's door open just before chaos hits.

 

**

 

Dispatching the remaining two guards is a simple affair. As Spock had, up until this point, proven to be a non-threat, the guards linger in front of Spock's cage while debating their next course of action. While the timing has to be exact, Spock finds no difficulty in completing a nerve pinch on both subjects simultaneously. Similarly, the cage is made of an alloy that his strength can easily manipulate. Escape occurrs in under two minutes as predicted.

Spock liberates his shirts from their mannequin display and pockets the two communicators and three phasers that are resting on the table nearby. He exits the room and heads north.

 

**

Jim falls back with the punch and he manages to crabwalk back until he can scramble up and get a hand to his face. His eyes are watering like fucking crazy and his nose is bleeding all down his chin. It's a sadly familiar situation but it still pisses him off. "Didn't you hear the explosion?" he shouts.

The Gorn takes a running charge... which, well, running isn't really the best description actually. Jim decides that the reason your only choice with a Gorn is outrunning them is because they're the slowest creatures in the whole universe. Jim waits, and waits and then goes for it, boxing the guy's ears and getting an almighty roar for his trouble.

"Now stop it!" he shouts, waving his hands.

The Gorn looks at him, rubbing his ears angrily.

"Explosion." Jim points at the gates and then the dispersing crowd. "Escape!" He makes the best hand gestures he can manage and wishes he had a universal translator on hand.

The Gorn doesn't say anything, just staring at Jim reproachfully.

"Yeah," Jim mutters under his breath, "Well, you threw the first cheap shot. The fucking nose, man. Fuck."

**

The arguing had reached a fever pitch once the second explosion hit. Listening to them blame each other and blame him for something none of them could have caused would have been funny if it weren't so damn annoying.

"Look!" McCoy shouts and the clamour dies down hesitantly. "There are a hell of a lot of us here and those bars don't look too sturdy. So why don't you shut up and help me see if we can break the door down!"

There's a moment of hesitation, a murmur across the crowd, and McCoy has damn well had it. He's a doctor and even he can tell that those bars won't hold up to shit. "Now!" he roars at the top of his lungs and there. His cellmates rush to the bars like their asses are on fire and Oleana tucks herself in next to McCoy. She jams her shoulder against the the lock on the door.

"You lied!" she tells him, amid the collective grunts of a hundred people pushing at the same wall.

"When did I lie?" McCoy asks, trying to get his hands wrapped good and solid around one of the door bars.

"When you said you didn't fight." She nods back towards the other end of the cell where no one was standing anymore. "Think you fight pretty well."

**

Spock manages to evade the majority of guards heading in the direction of the medium security prisons. As expected, it is clearly Mr. Scott who had arranged the diversion. Spock slips past the main crowd and follows the cavernous corridors until he locates the familiar scent the north guards carried with them. And with it, Uhura's frustrated complaints.

She is using the rudimentary spoon she'd been given to try to pry the lock of her cave. Spock places a hand over hers. "If you will allow me?"

Uhura smiles widely. She brushes her thumb over his knuckles and then steps back. "By all means."

Spock fires a phaser once at the lock and then pulls the door open. He holds his second phaser out to Uhura.

"Kirk's in the arena." She takes the proffered phaser and heads for the exit. "And I think he's fighting the Gorn."

**

"I'm going back." Jim heads for the gate determinedly. "My friends are in there and I'm not leaving without them."

The Gorn howls at him.

Jim stops and looks back. "Well, are you coming or what?"

The Gorn reluctantly trudges forward.

**

Once Opaka got all of the cells in that block opened, it was not a fair fight. Not a long fight either.

"Out through the arena?" Azre suggests, stepping over the groaning half-conscious bodies. "I am sure we can find some means of escape that way."

"I've friends I need to get to," Scotty says, already breaking off from the pack.

Opaka grabs Scotty's shoulder. "You're not going alone."

"Well that's kind but--"

Azre lays a hand Scotty's other shoulder. "Lead on... was it Scotty, you said?"

**

The gate is actually starting to give, but McCoy isn't sure that the ceiling won't give in first.

He rams his shoulder harder against the door, hears the whine of weakened metal.

"There's a lot of shouting outside," Oleana says.

"Help's coming," he counters firmly.

She nods, pursing her small mouth. "I hope they're our help."

**

The biggest commotion is coming from the center of the place, as far as Scotty can tell - a horrible screeching metal sound accompanied by a lot of angry shouting. "Bet my friends are in there."

"Big on making scenes?" Opaka asks, taking the handle annd getting ready to fling it open.

"Something like that," Scotty agrees. He waits until their group is assembled and then nods. Opaka throws the door open and the front half of the group charges in.

They enter into a relatively small antechamber with a massive row of bars cutting it off from a cavernous cell that could easily fit hundreds and looked to be at least a quarter full. There weren't any guards to be seen, just a bunch of prisoners trying to pull the wall of bars down on their heads.

"You're going to knock the roof down," Scotty says amiably.

"We might get the door first," McCoy snaps back. "Stop everybody!"

Opaka pokes his head in and then meanders over already brandishing his picks. "You want me to liberate them?"

"That'd be kind of you," McCoy says dryly.

Opaka bends down to eye level with the lock. He smiles at a young girl standing next to McCoy. "Nice to see you're still around here, Oli."

The girl smiles back, her cheeks flushing blue. McCoy arches an eyebrow.

Opaka jimmies the lock and pulls thed door open with a flourish. The exodus is a bit rough, too many people pushing too hard, but McCoy shouts them into a double file line and they get through good enough.

"That's one down," Scotty says. "Only three to go."

Once they get out into the open it's chaos. There are guards rushing to the main cavern and the prisoners, even McCoy's group, rush gleefully into battle. McCoy and Scotty are more focused on finding the rest of the prison cells.

"Wait," McCoy grabs Scotty by the arm. "I think there are more this way."

"Opaka!" Scotty waves at a young Bajoran man in the crowd. "Need your skills, man."

Opaka jogs over. "Where to?"

They head down the hall to a small series of chambers. There's half a dozen species McCoy doesn't recognize, and one he does. "This cell first," he says, waving Opaka over.

Opaka comes to a halt in front of the cell and hesitates for a moment. "You sure?"

"Yes, I'm damn well sure," McCoy snaps. "We're going to open all of these cells and we're getting everybody the hell out of here."

Opaka snorts. "You and your friends rehearse that bit?" he asks as he bends down to pick the lock of the first cell.

"You did not forget." the Klingon bows her head at McCoy.

"Not for a moment, ma'am," McCoy says as Opaka steps back to let her out.

 

**

The way to the arena is blocked by what appears to be a good old-fashioned prison riot. "Amazing." Uhura watches a boulder sail past and land on a small group of guards.

"Some of the methods of attack appear quite ingenious," Spock comments.

"The arena entrance is blocked though." She looks around for a different route.

Spock nods towards a set of small stairs behind them. "I believe there is a similar staircase along the other side."

"Works for me." Uhura ran for it.

 

**

It's pretty clear that all the mass panic isn't relegated to the surface. Getting out of the arena and into the underground is ridiculously easy because nobody's even guarding the gates. Getting out of the long tunnel from the arena is a totally different story. There's fighting and stick-throwing and all kinds of guerrilla warfare going on. The Gorn sticks close to Jim as he tries to neatly evade the melee. It's not that he doesn't want to kick some guard ass - he really does - but he has crew to find and he's kind of over kicking ass at this point. He's been in twelve fistfights in a week and even for him it's a bit much.

Someone - or a set of someones, Jim can't be sure - rush a boulder at one of the main cavern walls. It must have been weak already from the explosions because it gives way in a shower of rocks and debris, leaving a massive hole.

"Where there's a will," Jim mutters, heading for the hole. The Gorn grunts negatively and tries to grab at him.

"My friends are in there," Jim reminds him, tugging his hand free.

The Gorn makes a rude noise.

Jim says "Friends!" just as firmly and tiptoes across the rubble into the main cavern. He looks back and sees the Gorn slowly following along. Off to the right the crowd is fighting through the main entrance and Jim could swear he sees a familiar flash of Starfleet red among the brawlers. "Trust Scotty," he says to himself.

He's planning on heading that way when the phaser catches him in the side. Indirect hit but it burns like a bitch and he can't keep his footing.

Jim goes down, knees digging in the gravel, hand grasping at the burn searing his side. "Shit," he gasps, forehead to the ground. Shit, shit. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

The guy turns out to be a not half bad villian because he only announces his presence after he's shot Jim. "Trying to leave, Kirk?"

He needs to get up. He needs to get up now. "Now why would you think that?" Jim's voice comes out thin and reedy, but it doesn't crack.

"Jim!" he hears McCoy's shout and the thunder of more than one pair of Starfleet issue boots come running.

And then he hears the whine of a phaser at the ready.

"Stop damn it!" Jim shouts because he doesn't want McCoy or any of the rest heading for him when he's a sitting duck.

And then there's the roar of the Gorn rushing past.

Jim doesn't see the man go down but he hears the scuffle, the shouting and growling. He tries to push himself up on one arm but McCoy's there, hand on his back. "Stay still, Jim."

There's a yelp, definitely from the Gorn, and the whine of the phaser. Jim manages to push himself halfway up. Bones shouts for him to stay goddamn still and then Spock is on his other side, quietly but firmly issuing orders along the same vein. But Jim has to be sure. He has to be.

The Gorn's being held down by the guards, which means he isn't dead. And the gladiator-owning jackass in front of them isn't the one holding the phaser.

"You're going to back off," Uhura says steadily as she walks out in front where Jim can see her. She's holding the phaser like she was made for it and it's something he's always admired about her, the way she just mans up and adapts faster than anyone else.

"You would not kill in the arena," the guy scoffs. "I am supposed to believe you will kill now?"

Uhura smiles and Jim feels himself smiling with her. He manages to push himself up a little more, despite McCoy's harsh muttering and Spock's look of severe disapproval.

"Yeah, you really are." Jim says, his voice confident and clear as day. "But then you're not too smart are you? I mean, how stupid do you have to be to teach all of your prisoners how to kick your ass?"

 

 **Epilogue** :

 

"I'm just saying," Jim claps McCoy soundly on the back as they leave the transporter room after seeing off the last group of refugees. "You totally scored with a Klingon."

McCoy rolls his eyes. "Shut up, Jim."

"No one else scored with a Klingon," Jim beams proudly.

"I got an invite to the Trill homeworld," Scotty offers cheerfully as they step onto the bridge.

Uhura smirks. "So did I."

Jim settles into his chair, crossing his legs. "Strangely, I did _not_ get an invite to the Gorn homeworld."

Spock takes his station and adjusts his controls accordingly. "Actually, Captain," he says evenly, "I do not find that strange at all."


End file.
